If it’s true what they say,
and Prometheus really did steal fire
to hand it over to mankind,
he and I could be best friends in every life.
You see, I play with fire for a living,
watch it dance around my fingertips,
as we mend and break objects of all sizes.
This welder has been my weapon of choice for years now,
we don’t just produce, we create.
To say I love my job would be an understatement,
because who could possibly watch the wrath of burning flames everyday
and live to tell the tale.
On some days, I ask myself why.
Why my fingers feel numb without the taste of kerosene,
why my eyes can’t wait to resonate the flames,
why my heart does not grow cold even on my darkest days.
I have always had an obsession with fire and the way it does not discriminate.
Maybe, in an alternate universe, I’d like to believe I could be a dragon,
but daydreams like mine burn out before the flame can reach them anyway.
Still, I let myself wonder, imagine a life with a belly full of fire,
no wings, scales, talons or fangs,
just a dragon heartstring and Prometheus’ gift to mankind.